


4 Times MacGyver’s ADHD Got Him Into Trouble, And a Whole Lot of Times it Got Him Out of It

by CatWingsAthena



Category: MacGyver (TV 1985)
Genre: 4+1 Things, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Gen, MacGyver has ADHD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWingsAthena/pseuds/CatWingsAthena
Summary: Pretty much exactly what it says on the tin.





	1. Disorganization

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! So, I definitely headcanon MacGyver as having ADHD, and I thought, what would the consequences of that semi-realistically look like? And thus this fic was born. Full disclosure, I do not have ADHD, but I am neurodivergent (autistic) and close to a lot of people who do (my sister, dad, cousin, and one of my two best friends all have it). If I screw something up, please don't hesitate to let me know. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Chapter summary: When you're constantly off saving the world, it's hard to keep track of such mundane things as paying the rent. Luckily, MacGyver has the best landlady ever. (This chapter was inspired by MacGyver saying that Susan was "the only person on the planet who can keep [him] organized". I wondered what that looked like, and this is what I came up with.)

MacGyver wasn’t sure what to expect when he got the phone call.

He’d been home from his latest mission for about ten hours--really, did these people not know he needed to rest?--when the phone rang. He wasn’t doing anything else, really--unless you counted drinking coffee and fidgeting with a circuit as “doing something”--so, naturally, he picked up. There was always the chance it was important. Pretty good chance, actually. He could mentally grumble about it, but the truth was, if it was a mission, he’d go. He always did.

“Hello?” he said into the phone.

“Hello,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. It was a woman’s voice. “It’s Susan. Your landlady?”

“Hey, Susan,” MacGyver said. “I remember you. What’s going on?”

“I’m calling because your rent check was due a week ago, and I still haven’t gotten it,” said Susan.

_ Oh, that. _ MacGyver had been in... Somalia? East Germany? When had that rent check been due, exactly?

“Look, I’m sorry about that,” said MacGyver. “My job takes me all over the place, and I don’t always know when I’m gonna be home, and I guess it just slipped my mind. Won’t happen again. I’ll write it as soon as I get off the phone.”

“All right,” said Susan.

And that would have been that.

...

Two months later, the phone rang again.

“Hello?” said MacGyver.

“It’s Susan,” said Susan. “Your rent is late. Again.”

_ Wonderful. _ “I’m sorry,” said MacGyver. “Guess I just forgot. I’m so sorry this happened again when I said it wouldn’t, and I’ll do... everything I can to make sure this is the last time.”

“Are you busy?” asked Susan.

“What?” asked MacGyver.

“I said, are you busy?” Susan repeated.

“Not at the moment,” MacGyver replied.

“I’m coming over,” said Susan. “If that’s all right?”

“Sure thing,” said MacGyver. “See you soon.” He hung up.

MacGyver had been shot, tortured, almost blown up, and otherwise inconvenienced more times and in more ways than he cared to count. Which in no way altered the conclusion he was fast coming to: this was  _ not _ gonna be fun.

All too soon, there was a knock at the door.

MacGyver opened it. “Come in,” he said. “I made coffee. Want some?”

“I can’t drink coffee in the afternoon, I’m afraid,” said Susan. “Keeps me from sleeping. But thank you for the offer. Now, about your rent...”

“Yeah,” said MacGyver, “about that...”

“Relax,” said Susan, smiling. “I’m not here to attack you. I’m here to help you. I know you’re not the sort of person who would deliberately avoid paying rent, so there’s got to be some obstacle that’s keeping you from getting the rent in on time. I’m guessing it’s your job?”

MacGyver nodded.

“And what do you do, exactly?” asked Susan.

“Oh, stuff. I go around the world, and I... help people with their problems, I guess.”

Susan smiled. “Sounds interesting.”

MacGyver tilted his head to the side, considering. “Some days, yeah.”

“But anyway,” said Susan, “the rent. You do know you can turn it in early, right?”

“Yeah,” said MacGyver, “but... I just keep forgetting.”

Susan nodded. “I have a feeling you’re like my nephew. Brilliant kid, just brilliant, but scattered as anything. Kid’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body. And,” she said, gesturing to MacGyver’s bouncing leg, “he can’t sit still for the life of him.”

MacGyver glanced at his leg, and consciously made it stop. “Yeah,” he said, “sounds about right. I’ll try to do better--”

“Something tells me this is gonna keep happening unless we change something,” said Susan. “That’s not a strike against you--if anything, it’s a point in your favor. If I thought this was something you were doing on purpose, we’d be having a very different conversation. So this is what we’re gonna do: every month, two weeks before the rent comes due, I’ll send you a notice in the mail. I recommend you fill out and send that rent check as soon as you get the notice. If that isn’t possible, I suggest you put it up somewhere conspicuous, so you don’t forget. Which reminds me--”

“I still have a rent check to write,” said MacGyver, getting up and retrieving his checkbook.

“Exactly,” said Susan.

Once MacGyver had written out the check and handed it over, Susan turned to go. As she did, she paused. “Is that table hockey?”

“Sure is,” MacGyver replied. “You play?”

“Only with the best,” said Susan with a smile.

MacGyver put a hand to his chest in mock offence. “I’ll have you know I’m part Canadian,” he said.

“Bring it on,” said Susan.

MacGyver smiled. “We need stakes,” he said. “Here, let me get my marbles...”

“Better play well,” said Susan. “From what I’ve seen of you so far, it seems like you need all the marbles you can get.”

MacGyver adopted an expression of feigned upset. “Oh, is that how we’re gonna play?”

“Prove me wrong.”

The game was fast, and fierce, and involved a lot of chatter. They played another round, and another, until Susan finally said she needed to go home.

_ Well, that went a lot better than expected. _

MacGyver had been expecting a lecture. He’d wound up with a new friend.

It was always a good day when that happened.


	2. Impulsivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When MacGyver gets roped into going to a formal event and finds himself near some food, naturally, he takes some. Turns out he wasn't supposed to.
> 
> Things go south from there.

MacGyver really hated formal events.

Not the way he hated heights (there was no fear involved--at least, not usually), or guns (it wasn’t a moral antipathy--again, at least not usually), but in a more common sense of the word “hate”--a simple yet profound  _ dislike _ .

So, when Pete Thornton roped him into going to yet another one, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

Getting dressed up for a mission was okay--it could even be fun, sometimes--but getting dressed up for no reason, just to stand around and talk about nothing with people who probably didn’t want to be there any more than you did? Yeah. Not fun.

Standing at the edge of the room, in a rented tux, MacGyver wondered if there was anything he could do to make the evening more interesting.

(Of course there was. There were several things, in fact. A better question would be, was there anything he could do to make the evening more interesting that  _ wouldn’t _ interrupt the proceedings and probably damage the interests of the United States?)

Nothing was readily coming to mind, other than the obvious--just try  _ talking _ to people--so he circulated, listening in on conversations, trying to find one he wanted to break into. No luck. 

He wandered through the room, and eventually into another. When he wandered by a table with food, he grabbed a piece of cheese and popped it in his mouth.

As if he’d summoned angry cheese demons, two guys walked over to him.

“It’s not time,” said Angry Cheese Guy #1.

“Sir, this is the VIP table,” said Angry Cheese Guy #2. “I’m going to have to ask to see your ID...”

_ Well, this is just ridiculous _ . It was  _ cheese _ , for cryin’ out loud. But, Macgyver had a duty to protect U.S. interests, and that included not getting himself as a U.S. representative into trouble with angry cheese people at diplomatic functions (at least, he assumed it was a diplomatic function of some kind. Pete had told him exactly what it was, but since the information had been neither interesting nor potentially lifesaving, he hadn’t exactly retained it). So he improvised.

He briefly glanced down at himself--nope, he wasn’t wearing anything that identified him as a U.S. representative. So he said, “was sagst du? Ich spreche kein Englisch.” (His German was admittedly terrible, but he could say that much, and the plan depended on them  _ not  _ speaking it anyway. Angry Cheese Guy #1 looked Middle Eastern, so Russian was too risky, and...)

The Angry Cheese Guys looked at each other. MacGyver sent out a quick prayer that they wouldn’t question a man who didn’t speak English being present at a diplomatic summit being conducted in English.

Angry Cheese Guy #1 made a waving motion with his hand. MacGyver smiled, nodded, and left.

Only then did it occur to him that it probably would have been better to just apologize.

...

About a year later, MacGyver once again found himself standing in a room full of well-dressed people, wishing he was somewhere else.

He was trying to twist a conversation about the weather into something moderately interesting when he spotted him.

Angry Cheese Guy #2.

Who, based on his expression, had seen him.

And, more importantly,  _ heard him speaking English. _

MacGyver quickly turned around, but Angry Cheese Guy was already heading his way.

“Who are you?” Angry Cheese Guy asked.

“Name’s MacGyver,” MacGyver said, looking around the room for a way out. Maybe if he played it casual, acted like nothing was wrong... “What’s yours?”

“Virtanen,” said Angry Cheese Guy, whose name was apparently Virtanen. “Your English is much improved from last year. Congratulations.... or perhaps you’re just a liar?”

“Hey, now,” said MacGyver. “I’m sure we can find some agreeable way to resolve this...”

“Why did you pretend not to speak English?” asked Virtanen. “And what were you doing at the VIP table without an invitation?”

_ Okay, _ thought MacGyver.  _ This guy takes events way too seriously. _

Just then, Pete Thornton showed up.

He took in MacGyver’s darting eyes, Virtanen’s accusatory stance, and the sense of severe discomfort permeating the scene.

“What’s the story here?” he asked.

“This man,” said Virtanen, “Last year at the Randalph Symposium, took food from the VIP table without permission and, when confronted about it, pretended not to speak English.”

Pete smiled. He seemed to be barely restraining himself from laughing.

“Oh, that,” said Pete. “That was for a psychological experiment, on how people react to unexpected situations. MacGyver works for my think tank, see--sometimes we need to gather data on human behavior, to better understand how people will react in the kinds of situations we sometimes deal with. I can assure you, he was acting with full permission.”

Virtanen didn’t look satisfied, but he nodded. Then, he walked away.

MacGyver smiled and looked at Pete. “Psychological experiment, huh?”

“I was on the spot, it was the best I could do.”

“No,” said MacGyver, “thank you.”

“Anytime,” said Pete. “I was going to ask if you really grabbed food you weren’t supposed to and then pretended not to speak English to get out of trouble, but... I don’t really need to, do I?”

MacGyver shook his head.

“What language did you use?” asked Pete.

“German.”

“Really?” said Pete. “Your German is  _ terrible. _ ”

“Theirs was nonexistent,” MacGyver replied. “And besides... I was on the spot, it was the best I could do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! If you're reading this and don't speak German, what MacGyver was trying to say was "what are you saying? I don't speak English." If you're reading this and do speak German, I used Google Translate, so if it's wrong, blame it on MacGyver's terrible German skills.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! All chapters are plotted out, but it may be a while between them, because I'm a college student with a writing-heavy courseload. Why is this a 4+1 and not a 5+1? To increase the chances I'll actually finish it. I may not have ADHD, but I do have executive dysfunction, not to mention said schoolwork. However, I'm going to try really, really hard to finish this, because I care about it, and because someone I care about wants me to (if you're the person who encouraged me to write this, and you're reading this, you know who you are. Thank you.) Suggestions are welcome--if I get one I really like, who knows, maybe it'll be a 5+1. Next chapter: poor working memory. MacGyver finds himself mid-plan, with a bunch of stuff and no idea what he was planning to do with it...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it! If you did, please let me know below! I hope you have a wonderful day!


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